


the end of all things

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, I mean not cutting but it's there, Other, Reader-Insert, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 16:44:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5750614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I do not own Attack on Titan.<br/>I do own the writing.</p>
    </blockquote>





	the end of all things

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Attack on Titan.  
> I do own the writing.

_“Hate me.”_

_“I can’t.”_

Dull, tear riddled eyes stare up at another pair, ocean blue laced with deep fear and concern. Slender, scarred fingers trace the pale scabs running down your face, parallel to each other and jagged where the flesh had been torn. The once-soft skin doesn’t give way, and the boy’s hands tremble almost imperceptibly as he moves. 

“You have to come eat….” he whispers, gently wiping the tears away from your face. You look away, sinking your teeth into your lip hard enough to draw a tiny bead of blood to the surface. It hurts, but you barely register the pain.

“I don’t want to.”

He sighs, a soft puff of air moving the tangled mess of your hair. The guilt already heavy in in your heart increases tenfold at the look on his face. Hopeless. Exhausted. And why wouldn’t he be, trying to help a useless waste of life like yourself?

“Please,” he pleads, cradling your face in his hands. Your uniform is splattered with mud already, as is your face and hair, from kneeling by your tree for hours; you count yourself lucky the Corporal doesn’t care enough about you to have noticed the state you were in. The grime from your face sticks to his hands when he pulls away, and shame seeps into you again.

“I’ll be fine,” you mumble, digging your fingers into the spaces between your ribs. Your eyes fall to the ground and remain there, tracing the paths of the tree roots. Anything to keep you from meeting his eyes and seeing what you’ve done to him. “Go be with Eren and Mikasa.”

“I’m not just going to leave you here, this is the first time I’ve seen you in three days! And you haven’t talked to anyone else, either-I checked. You can’t keep doing this to yourself, (y/n)-you’re going to _die._ ”

You choke, the bile in your throat rising to the surface. Armin’s eyes widen as you clench your hair in your fists, gory images flashing behind your tightly shut lids. Your nails dig slowly into your skin as you drag them down your face, reopening the scabs and blood getting underneath your fingernails. It hurts, but you deserve it, _you deserve it, you left them there to die-_

Armin yanks your hands away from your face and lurches forward, pulling you into his arms. You crumble into him, limbs going limp except for your arms; you hug him as tightly as you can manage, clinging to him like a lifeline. He rubs small circles on your back while you sob soundlessly into his shoulder, hiccups forcing their way out of your throat. Other cadets passing by stare at your pitiful spectacle, and you can clearly see the looks they give Armin, full of confusion and condescension.

It only makes it worse-you already know you don’t deserve him.

When the silent tears stop falling, you let your head rest against Armin’s shoulder, streaks of dirt marring his clean jacket. You’re kneeling more than sitting now, boot-tips and knees digging into the dirt and mud of the path. Armin stands as you stand, but doesn’t let you pull away.

“I’ll go...clean up,” you mumble, heat suffusing your cheeks as you inspect yourself. Mud cakes your uniform and droplets of blood decorate your shirt and maneuvering gear. Your fingers are even worse, and you shudder to think of what could have gotten into your wounds. No wonder everyone was staring at you. You’re disgusting.

Armin lets you go, but he keeps hold of your hand. As you walk toward your barracks, you try to pull your hand away, but he knows you too well and doesn’t let go. You squeeze his hand as tightly as you can manage, and he squeezes back. With his grounding presence, the pain begins to fade into the background. It's still there-it always will be-but when the cycle is broken, you feel a bit more like a human being.

Scrubbing yourself raw and hunting up a new uniform takes the better part of an hour. Running a comb through your wet hair hurts, but you feel better when you look in the window and the wounds on your face are clean, you hair damply clinging to your head. Wrapping bandages over the worst of them makes you feel better still; you're pretty sure you can pass inspection now, even if your eyes are still red and the medics are going to kill you for reopening your wounds. 

He’s sitting patiently on the steps of your barracks and watching the sun go down, other cadets making their way to dinner, more training, or sleep for the lucky ones. When the heels of your boots click against the wooden boards, he gets to his feet and hugs you again, burying his face in your shoulder. You take deep breaths, ignoring the sting of your wounds, and hug back. His hair tickles your skin.

“Please, please, please don’t do this again. At least tell me if it gets bad. Let me help you, (y/n), please. I can’t lose you,” Armin whispers. He’s shaking, barely enough for you to notice, but it’s enough for your fingers to dig deeper into the back of his jacket. Guilt courses through you, but it’s almost like he can tell, because the next moment he pulls away and fixes you with a glare.

_“It wasn’t your fault,”_ he says fiercely, cupping your face in his hands. “Even _Levi_ said their deaths weren’t your fault-believe him if you don’t believe me!”

Breathing is getting hard again. How are you supposed to explain how much you desperately want to believe him, but that you can still hear your friends’ screams whenever you let your mind wander for even a second? That no matter how hard you tried it was impossible for you to construct a reality where you were innocent of the blame?

“I just-I can’t-I miss them _so much-_ ” you manage to choke out before tears start running down your face once more. Armin pulls you back into his arms and holds on.

“I know you do. But, (y/n)-they wouldn’t want you to do this. They wouldn’t want you to blame yourself. They’d want you to live. They’d want you to be happy.”

When you look up into his eyes, they are wide, earnest. You’ve envied this about him-the ability to see happiness in a world which you often feel has lost all such things. It’s something you’ve lost long ago, but when you’re with him, you can imagine you have it back, for a little while. Somewhere deep in your heart, a little part of you manages to see what he means.

“You...do you really think that? That they’d forgive me?” you ask. Armin nods, smiling. The sunset begins to fade as you lean back against him, tears quieted. Your breathing slowly calms as you watch the sun sink below the horizon and listen to Armin’s steady breathing. His hand is still tightly clasped around yours, and as the last few traces of pain fade away, you close your eyes, and breathe.

_I will be okay._


End file.
